@ultescape said: [ support ] - also reverse... perhaps supporting leland out of the house :/
+
@fcused said: [ catch ] - for receiver to catch sender as they stumble or collapse from exhaustion / sickness / injuries + reverse. / concussed retriever after running it down mid on 2hp type beat.
leland makes stumbled, half-blind steps down the dust road in the dark. julie has his arm looped over her shoulder, teeth pressed together tight as she does her best to steer them both toward the de-activated cattle grid up ahead. everyone else had made it past the gates already.
he had fallen behind, and made sure of it.
in that moment, grappling with johnny, growling to julie to run — please, julie, just fucking go — he hadn't cared what would happen to him. he hadn't expected anyone to turn around.
but julie had. julie wouldn't let him get away with something so fucking stupid.
the dark treeline tilts around them. vision bends — has been bending, since johnny nailed him right into the dirt, with a rough hand in his hair, and snarled taunts in his ear. and then he did that a few more times, again, and again, until something snapped, ugly and wrong and white-hot painful, until leland came up gasping on dirt and blood.
but julie had turned around. in a moment, the weight was off his back. in a moment, julie had plunged pointed end of bone into the man's shoulder. enough time to turn the tables, for leland to reverse them, knee dug into the man's ribcage, as he'd cracked knuckles into the jackal's face over and over. until jackal spat up sharp gurgles of blood beneath him. until he stopped taunting. until he kept his friends' names out of his sneering mouth.
rage, shaking, twisting, visceral. wanted him to pay for it. for ever laying a hand on maria, on any of them —
leland, leland. that's enough —
he had made a mess of the guys face, and his own hands, by then. he should have killed him. he would have. he didn't. he let julie drag him up and off the man, pulled him staggering through the rows of sunflowers.
and ruined knuckles are the least of his problems. his nose is probably broken. the sharp, nervy sting of it reached up into his split eyebrow. the jagged blade swipe across his face feels sticky with fresh and drying blood. and beneath that, his temple, the line of his jaw, bruising sickly purple. he guesses he could thank the adrenaline, for how his face had bypassed burning, and ebbed into an uncomfortable numbness, instead.
come on, leland! it's only a little further, come on —
leland is all but on autopilot — whittled down to the emergency services going off single-file in his brain, that tell him to move, to run, to breathe. his sense returns in pieces, registering the sound of the man still sputtering curses in the dirt some distance behind them. that they have to move fast. that maybe the guy wasn't going to be getting up any time soon, but julie had said something — something about the older man in the white shirt, shambling toward the generator.
❝ jules. ❞ he croaks, around his bloody nose, to which she doesn't answer, at first, just hurries them along with a ragged determination. it's just a little further, she repeats. neither of them have the breath to spare.
❝ 'm sorry. ❞ he says, anyway. she knows exactly for what. the sound is thick with the blood spilling freely over his hand. again, she doesn't answer, but her brow worries. there are new mascara tracks, bleeding down her dirtied cheeks.
they pass over the cattle grid. the cattle grid zaps to life on their heels.
then, the lights of that god-awful house are finally fading behind them. he can hear a slurry of voice from up ahead, julie throwing a breathless scream of connie's name.
footsteps quicken toward them. he staggers, misses a step, and julie crumbles off-balance with his weight, too — but this time another pair of hands catch him at the arm. the three of them stabilize. leland blinks against a dizzied rush of ginger hair, and connie's underwater voice next to his ear. his knees wobble, threaten to give, but he refrains from taking them all to the ground with him.
connie's holding his messy face in her hands, trying to get his unfocused eyes on her; leland, leland, hey — and relief flashes in his chest. of course. connie had gotten the gate unlocked. connie, who he had last seen in that slaughterhouse, staring back at him in terror. not unlike now.
❝ hey, ❞ he answers, with a casual gentleness, that rakes against his abused throat. i'm okay, he wants to reassure. jules saved me, but you could probably tell. he settles for an earnest ❝ sorry. 'm late. ❞ his smile is weak, and half-loopy. if he were feeling less like smeared roadkill, maybe he would have a better joke.
more hurried, staggered footsteps approach, and it's sonny, and danny, and ana. eyes squeeze tight, as saltwater wells and stings; thank god. thank fucking god. he can hear their voices, exhausted, indistinct around him, sonny's hands on his shoulders, taking julie's place on his other side. we thought we lost you, man. leland lilts his head, to gently bump against sonny's with a soft laugh. and he squeezes julie's hand, mumbles an equally-soft thank-you-jules, as he transfers her to danny's arms. danny whispers thank-yous of shaking desperation into her hair, too.
everyone, hurt bad. terrified, far from help. but alive.
leland's eyes return to connie; ❝ ... don't worry. not all mine, ❞ he mumbles, in some vague justification to his sorry state. as though a strong ninety-percent of the gore-splatter wasn't, in fact, just his. as if she hadn't probably seen him, seen all of it. seen him back in the slaughter house, too. wild-eyed, wildfire anger.
a hazy ache beats the inside of his skull. something that felt like another apology.
he had worried her. had probably scared her, too.
leland anchors on her blurring features, even as his eyes flutter, and try to blink back rising water. and the night threatens to spin and swoop and darken around him. one hand comes up to cradle her face, threadbare smile still clinging faintly. thumb smears blood on her cheek, by accident, and he laughs, or sobs, and the tears spill anyway, speckle her muddied flannel.
❝ i'm so glad you're okay. ❞
